About the Author
by Jerry Christianson
Summary: Harry finds out that J.K. Rowling is writing books about him. I've been debating with myself whether to write this fic for a while now...hopefully it'll work out.
1. Authors and Auras

A/n: Yeah yeah yeah, I'm sorry you have to hear an old man's wheezing whaffle before you get on with the story. I just thought you may be interested to know that though I've had a couple of originals on this site, this is my first ever fan fic, so I'm not exactly sure if this is how it works…still, I hope you enjoy the story, and I'm partial to suggestions as well as reviews. You can email me, IM me, or just say what you think in a review (after all, that's what they're there for). Anyway. Less talk, more reading time. ~Jerry

Harry Potter and his best friend Ron Weasley were goofing off at the breakfast table one morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when very suddenly Hermione Granger spit out her milk.

"What was that for, Hermione?" Harry asked as he used his napkin to help her mop up the mess.

"Look," she said melodramatically as she handed a copy of The Daily Prophet to Harry and Ron.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione skeptically as he took the paper, expecting to read about the humdrum buzz over Norwegian tariffs on dragon talons.

Harry was close. "So what else is new? Poland wants to raise its tariff on dragon tongue."

"No, not that!" Hermione said, exasperated. "It's this!"

She pointed at a small blurb, just at the bottom of the front page. Harry wondered why they even printed a story that short on the front page, for he hardly noticed it – and, he imagined, neither did a lot of people.

"'Harry Potter Book to be Published,'" Harry read. He looked up in disgust. "Oh, so what?"

"Yeah, I know," Hermione said, emphasizing at once. "But it's not that I notice. Read on."

Harry gave Hermione a puzzled look, but he started skimming the article. "'The book will be titled, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, published by Bloomsbury Publishing, Plc. Retired witch Joanne Kathleen Rowling finally got it published after years of studying Harry Potter…pfft." Harry tossed aside the paper, frustrated. To Harry, any reminder of who he was or why he was famous seemed like an insult. He had grown to loathe such reminders and those who commented on such shallowness.

"Harry, you great prat, will you look for just a moment?"

"I read the article and now you want more? You never let up, Hermione," Harry chided.

"No. Look at the publisher. Bloomsbury. Sound familiar?"

"Nope."

Hermione looked angry, or at least bitterly disappointed.

"Sorry," Harry said, unsure of how he should act.

"Bloomsbury," Hermione said, ignoring Harry's apology, "happens to be a Muggle publisher. There are only three wizard publishers in England: Wizard Words, Merry Musings, and Fickle Readers, Inc. But Bloomsbury…" Hermione trailed off. "The only thing I know them for is Birds and Men, and that has to be the most Muggle-like book of them all. What is this woman thinking, writing a biography for Muggles on you?"

Harry scrutinized the article. "Maybe she sold it as something else. Like fiction."

To this Ron laughed.

"It's not funny," Hermione snapped. "This Rowling character really could get us wizards in trouble with the Muggle community."

"I don't know, The Daily Prophet doesn't seem to be making a fuss over it."

"That's probably because they didn't do their research. I'm writing a letter." Hermione stood from the table.

"Hermione, wait! Don't you think you're making a mountain over a molehill? I mean, let's say you're wrong…"

This only made Hermione glare at Harry stonily.

"I mean, er…fine. Go ahead and write your letter. But I'm having no part in this."

Harry and Ron walked off, heading to Divination at the North Tower.

"I agree with you. It's probably nothing," Ron said as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Yeah…Hermione may be clever, but she can be a pain, especially when she looks into things too hard."

Harry and Ron paused when they reached the North Tower, where the rest of the class was already waiting. As Harry and Ron were the last ones there, the usual silvery ladder came down, right on time. Professor Trelawney once claimed that she always waited for all the students to be there until she let down the ladder, relying on her Third Eye to notify her the moment all her students were below her. Harry and Ron highly doubted this, and they spent most of last year trying to find the knothole where Professor Trelawney watched until every student was accounted for.

The first day of Divination looked no different from the first day of any Divination, as Trelawney made wild promises that Harry would die within the end of the month. She then went on to say that the class would spend most of their fall semester learning about auras and how to see them.

"Auras," she said in her misty voice. A few pupils in Harry's class gave a shiver of excitement. "Auras, as most of you know, are single colored outlines that reveal the true self. Every human has an aura. They are the fields that make up a person. Even Muggles can look at someone and associate them with the color of their aura…and usually be correct. However, true Seers can not only see auras clearly, but only need to look at someone before sizing them up and knowing everything there is to know about the person's emotions…perhaps even better than himself." She paused, looking at the class and watching their reaction.

"I will attempt to demonstrate this now. Mr Weasley, if you will come forward to the class?"

Ron looked up. He was not daydreaming, or at least, he was halfway paying attention (it was, after all, the first day back to school), but he still jumped when Professor Trelawney said his name. A few girls giggled.

"Er…" said Ron. Harry pushed him up to the class.

Professor Trelawney sized up Ron, seeming to see something beyond the third dimension. A few members of the class tried to do the same, but no one was sure what exactly Professor Trelawney was doing. Harry imagined they were not too successful.

Professor Trelawney then went over to the lacy curtains that framed the outside and shut them. She dimmed the candles and put out the fire in the fireplace, and then it was dark in the classroom, but not so dark that Harry couldn't see at all.

"I dimmed the lights because it is easier to make out auras in the dark," Professor Trelawney explained. "Now then. You will notice, if you stare at Mr Weasley long enough, that his aura appears greenish in color. Green indicates sensitivity, compassion, and calmness."

Harry tried not to laugh.

"His aura extends to about here." Professor Trelawney made a gesture as if tracing something that wasn't there about half a foot from Ron's shoulder. Ron gave a slight shiver. "This is about average for an aura, though I must say, it's a little smaller than usual for an adolescent boy. Most auras for people around your age are more rounded and less defined, indicating immaturity. Mr Weasley's; however, is oval in shape, like most adults."

"Ooh, I think I see!" Lavender Brown squealed.

"Some of you will also notice," Professor Trelawney continued, as though Lavender had never spoken, "a few shades of blue and yellow in Mr Weasley's aura. These are the two easiest colors to see in any aura, even though they are not as defined as the green. The yellow circulating Mr Weasley's head is mental activity. You can almost make out his thoughts." Professor Trelawney smiled, showing lipstick on her crooked white teeth. 

"The blue, on the other hand, shows intuition. I also notice some darker blues. Loneliness." Professor Trelawney looked at Ron, who blushed and shook his head. He and Harry looked at each other. Harry couldn't help smirking at Ron as he stood there, helplessly embarrassed, even though both knew it was all rubbish.

"That is all the time we have now. Mr Weasley, you may sit down." With a sigh of relief Ron took back his pouffe.

"Your homework," Professor Trelawney said amongst the groans, "is to find a partner and spend a half hour every night trying to read their aura. Refer to chapter six of your textbooks to interpret the colors and signs. You will find that at first this task is very difficult, and most of you will only be able to see blues and yellows. But, with time some of you may be able to look at a total stranger and know them through their aura. Read the signs, children!" Professor Trelawney looked upon her students. "Until we meet again, fair fortune be yours."

Harry and Ron laughed their way down Professor Trelawney's ladder, and Seamus and Neville couldn't help teasing Ron about his telltale aura. Of course, seeing as Professor Trelawney already unknowingly did Harry's homework for him, Harry felt at ease with his first night's worth of homework. Of course, he still had yet to see what Hagrid had in store for the Gryffindors at Care of Magical Creatures, but Harry wasn't too worried, in spite of himself.

By the time Harry and Ron joined up with Hermione at the Hogwarts grounds, Harry had forgotten about the letter Hermione was planning to write. But, she greeted Harry and Ron with a fresh piece of parchment, ready for Hedwig to take off to The Daily Prophet's office. Harry couldn't admit that he was too pleased with Hermione, but he read the letter anyway:

To Whom It May Concern:

It has been brought to my attention that the latest unofficial biography of my friend Harry Potter, entitled Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by Ms J.K. Rowling has not been endorsed by any wizard in the English community. In fact, if I may reveal to you, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. is unmistakably the same Bloomsbury Publishing that has brought forth books by Muggle authors such as Nigel Newton and Alan Bartram. If Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. is to publish Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, I am wondering whether Potter's history as a wizard will be revealed to the Muggle community as well as the wizard community.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Harry read the letter and shoved it back to Hermione's hands. "It's your letter, but I'm telling you, you're getting nowhere with it."

Hermione smiled. "We'll just wait and see," she said in the same tone.


	2. Hermione's Letter

A/n: Holy cow

A/n: Holy cow. I did NOT think I'd get these many readers, let alone reviews, in a single day. I'm overwhelmed. Thank you. And a GIANT thanks to [][1]**MacGyverMagic** for catching that thing with the wizard publishers– as you can see, I clarified that in this chapter. Thanks again, all you people! You're wonderful! ~Jerry

After dinner that night Harry and Ron decided to get a crack on reading Harry's aura so that they would be ready for when McGonagall piled on the Transfiguration homework. The Gryffindor Fifth Years were expecting a hard year, for they were taking their O.W.L.s in the spring, and naturally teachers such as Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick would squeeze in all the information they could possibly fit inside their students' brains to better prepare them.

Harry correctly predicted that Hagrid wouldn't have any homework for his class, but he and the rest of the Gryffindors were pleasantly surprised about what a promising class Care of Magical Creatures was this year. They spent their first day back plucking tail feathers from Fwoopers, which were African birds with highly wild colors decorating their plumage, ranging from lime green to purple. 

Hagrid set forth a difficult task, telling his Fifth Years that he needed the Fwoopers' tail feathers to make quills that would be sold at Flourish and Blotts. He also added that each student would get commissions for their feathers, depending on how intact the feathers were. 

Although the Fifth Years set out to do Hagrid's bidding with high hopes, they found that Fwoopers were irritable birds that hated having their tail feathers plucked, and they made silent squawking noises at the students. Hagrid explained that these Fwoopers had their voices muted because their songs were infamous for driving one insane. But the Fwoopers got their angry messages across as they scratched, bit, and ruffled their wings at the students. Even Draco Malfoy had to work hard to keep his Fwooper in control. All in all, it was an interesting first day back. Plus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made two Galleons and seven Knuts between the three of them.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when Ron said rather rudely that he didn't have all night to work on Divination, especially when Trelawney said they only needed half an hour. Harry turned his attention back to Ron.

"Right. Let me just copy down my notes from class before we do my aura," Harry said. He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and started copying down his notes.

Ron looked at what Harry was doing. "You think she'll take it?" he asked.

"Sure. I'm just spitting back what she said in class. Isn't that what teachers like?"

"Usually, yes, but…sometimes that doesn't work."

Harry sighed. He did feel a little scrupulous about just copying down notes and calling it homework…but not that scrupulous, as most, if not all, of the stuff that Harry turned in was made up anyway.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I'll just spice it up with some narrative flare," Harry said at last, crumpling up his parchment and rewriting his name on a new piece. Instead of simply writing down, "Ron's aura has a greenish color," Harry wrote, "I see a great field of green within my friend Ron Weasley's aura, which screams out his compassionate and sensitive side with a passion…."

"That's good," Ron said, reading over Harry's shoulder. Within less than ten minutes, Harry was done with his Divination homework.

"All right…my turn," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "Let's see…what does chapter six of our book even say?"

"Dunno, but I bet it's all rubbish."

Ron flipped to the correct page of his book. He started skimming until he found a few good things about Harry.

"Let's see…she's a total sap for you and your tragic life…why don't we just look for that sort of stuff?" Ron said as he skimmed.

"Yeah, good call," Harry said. "Okay. Too much blue means blocked perceptions…that'd be good. Didn't she say something about blue being easy to see?"

"Ah," Ron said in Professor Trelawney's misty voice. "I see you possess the mark of melancholy, worrying, rushing, and fearfulness."

Harry snorted. They continued on, making certain they got all the most tragic elements they could out of the yellows and blues without sounding redundant, and it took Ron less time to do his homework than it took Harry to copy his.

"I see you are working ever so hard on your Divination, for a change."

Harry turned and saw Hermione approaching. She peered over Ron's shoulder.

"Ah, of course," she said, "what would Divination be without a little bit of made up calamity?"

"Hey, there's no denying that the planets have spoken," Ron yawned.

"The same planets you made up last year?"

"Yeah. Those planets." Ron filed away his homework.

"What brings you here?" Harry asked as Hermione sat down in an easy chair. He noticed Hermione had that look on her, the look that clearly said she was up to something, and it must not be good for either Harry or Ron.

Hermione grinned. "They replied to me."

It took Harry a moment to think of what Hermione was talking about.

"So soon?" he asked.

Hermione held up an official looking piece of parchment.

Harry picked it up. Two words were written on it:

You sure?

"Naturally, I wrote back right away, saying I'd bet my life on it." Hermione looked smug.

"Hermione," Harry said. "Are you sure? I mean, I looked into your thing on wizard publishers this afternoon, and you weren't that accurate. Quidditch Through the Ages alone was published by Whizz Hard Books in Diagon Alley, and there are other wizard publishers out there too, like Obscurus Books and Merlin Publishers, Inc."

"Ah, but did you look up where those books were published?" Hermione asked. "Whizz Hard is a Romanian publisher, even though it has a branch in London. Obscurus Books is Russian, and Merlin Publishers, Inc. was originally English but moved to Scotland a few years ago."

Harry looked at Hermione, puzzled.

"Hermione, how do you know all this?" Ron asked.

"Because," Hermione turned slightly pink. "A few summers ago I thought I could get a story published. Nothing came out of it, of course, but I did submit to a lot of wizard publishers as well as some Muggle ones, too." She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Hermione with his mouth slightly open as she sat there, looking into the fire.

"I didn't know you liked to write," Harry said at last, feeling as stupid as he sounded.

"Yeah. It's a small habit of mine," Hermione said, sounding like she was trying to sound off-handish about it.

There was a deep pause in the conversation.

"Hey, wait!" Ron exclaimed suddenly. "So that's the real reason you hated that Sveeter woman so much. She not only was famous for her works, but she made everything up!"

"Yeah, exactly," Hermione said, sounding pleased that Ron made that connection. "And it's also why I want to see what this Rowling person has in mind in writing about Harry. About us. I mean, is she in it for fame and fortune, or does she really care about her art?" 

Hermione sighed. "Oh well. Off to bed, right?"

Harry and Ron nodded. They were tired; the ride in Hogwarts Express and the first day back were always trying. Harry yawned, which made Ron yawn, and then Hermione.

"All right. Time to sleep," Hermione said with a giggle. She stood, taking the parchment with her. Ron and Harry got up also, taking their Divination homework with them.

As Harry undressed that night and crawled into his bed, he couldn't help but wonder about this Rowling lady. He also wondered whether somehow, he was being watched in his own four-poster.

But even then, the idea seemed obscure to Harry.

   [1]: file:///C:/My%20Documents/index.fic?action=Directory-AuthorProfile&UserID=12563



	3. The Daily Prophet Responds

The next morning Hermione scampered down to the Great Hall with Harry and Ron panting behind her, and she breathlessly awaited the morning flurry of owls to bring forth her copy of The Daily Prophet

A/n: all right, now that I'm over my writer's block and know where I'm going with the story, it shouldn't be more than a couple more weeks. Of course, it's just the reviews that have brought me this far…(hint, hint…) ~Jerry

The next morning Hermione scampered down to the Great Hall with Harry and Ron panting behind her, and she breathlessly awaited the morning flurry of owls to bring forth her copy of The Daily Prophet. Harry didn't look too enthusiastic about the entire thing, but he was curious to see if they would print Hermione's letter.

A tawny brown owl came with Hermione's copy of The Daily Prophet, and she practically bombarded it with five Knuts as she tore her newspaper out of its beak and flipped straight to the Opinion and Editorials section.

"Did they print it?" Ron asked, unable to hide his enthusiasm in spite of himself.

Hermione skimmed all the letters to the editor. "No," she said, sounding put out.

"What?" Harry asked. "But…they wrote back and all…"

"I know, it seems weird, doesn't it?" Hermione replied. She skimmed through it again. "Maybe there's a follow-up on yesterday's article…" She started flipping through the news section.

Harry and Ron served themselves some sausage, bacon and toast while Hermione kept searching.

"I don't believe this!" she said. "Nothing at all? After all that scoop I gave them?"

"Maybe they're still investigating it for tomorrow," Ron suggested.

Hermione sighed and put down the paper. "Yeah. Maybe," she said.

In spite of Harry's curiosity, Hermione's letter was the least of Harry's worries that week. That morning the Gryffindors had their first day back to Potions with Snape and the Slytherins. Whatever Snape had to do last spring with Voldemort's rising, it definitely didn't soften him at all, for he was just as cruel to the Gryffindors as ever before, especially with Harry. However, Harry saw Snape in a new light. Both were in the fight against Voldemort, and no matter what, Harry wondered whether he and Snape could make a sort of truce the way Sirius did only a few months ago. Therefore Harry didn't protest when Snape took ten points from Gryffindor when Ron called Draco a worthless git, much to Ron's annoyance.

"He's no better than he was last year," Ron complained as they walked out of Potions.

"People don't change, Ron, I hate to tell you," Hermione said bitterly.

Harry said nothing. That sounded like everything that contradicted with Dumbledore's belief about people getting a second chance. Many thoughts whirled through Harry's head. For once he was having scruples about being horrible to Snape, even though he didn't voice this to his friends. Harry knew Snape hated him since his first day at Hogwarts, but only two years ago Lupin was saying how Snape did not so much hate Harry as resented Harry's father playing a joke on him.

"What's on your mind, Harry?" Hermione said, noticing Harry's silence.

"Oh…just thinking about that article," Harry lied, to get Ron and Hermione to stop talking about Snape.

"The one that wasn't printed?" Hermione said. "I'm thinking of writing another."

"I'd wait a few days before I did," Ron answered. "You never know."

They stopped talking once they reached History of Magic. Harry and Ron sat in the back while Hermione took her usual spot in the front row, center, and before long Professor Binns walked through the chalkboard, pulled out his notes, and started reading. Harry sighed as he started taking lecture notes with his quill and parchment. Another year, another pile of unread notes.

There was no article about Joanne Kathleen Rowling's new book that Saturday…or Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Hermione looked frustrated by Wednesday morning, and she stood from the table and said that she was going to write another letter. Harry sighed, but there was nothing he could do, since Hermione tended to do whatever she liked whenever she liked. She came back at lunch with a new letter ready for Hedwig to deliver:

To Whom It May Concern:

I find it disconcerting that the latest letter I wrote to The Daily Prophet involving Ms J.K. Rowling's new book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, to be published by Bloomsbury Publishing, Plc. (a Muggle institution), remains unnoticed and underreported. The idea that any witch or wizard would reveal our world to any Muggle is and remains a felony with 8 to 15 months imprisonment at Azkaban, under the Muggle Restriction Law, Section 5B of Article X. 

I admit I have not read Ms Rowling's latest work. However, given the title and the publisher, one could easily assume that she has indeed violated such an international law, and I would like to see some sort of investigation into the matter at hand.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

"I also made a copy for Bloomsbury and the Ministry of Magic," Hermione said briskly, looking excited about her letter.

"Wow, you really did your research, Hermione. I didn't know half of this stuff, and considering what my dad is, that's a lot," Ron answered. For Ron, that was the highest compliment he could have given Hermione. She glowed at his words.

But Harry wasn't too impressed. "I don't know what the big deal is," he said rather bluntly, "I mean, so what, she wrote a book? So have millions of writers."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She is violating very strict laws about keeping the wizard community a secret, Harry. I mean, what would the Muggle community do if they found out about us? Burn us, like in the Medieval times?"

Harry knew Hermione meant to be funny, but it wasn't until then did he understand the severity of breaking Muggle Restriction laws. Finally he understood what Hagrid meant when he said four years ago, "Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone." He couldn't help but wonder what sort of consequences Ms Rowling's book would bring if she really did intend to expose Muggles to the wizard community, even if the book said on the cover it was fiction. There would be people flying from all over the world trying to get into Platform Four and Three Ninths, and Harry couldn't safely go anywhere around town with his already trademark glasses and lightning scar. 

"Yeah, okay, send the letter. Do you want me to get Hedwig for you?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. Ron also got out Pigwidgeon, but they were uncertain how to send out the letter to Bloomsbury. Ron thought they should use a Hogwarts owl, but Hermione and Harry both thought that the best way would be through Muggle post. Ron pointed out that there was no way they could do such a thing, for no wizard used Muggle post – none in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, that is. Finally Harry decided they would ask Sirius to deliver the letter through normal Muggle post, for Sirius wrote in his latest letter that he and Lupin were passing by London that next week. So they sent out a barn owl with a letter to Sirius attached, explaining the situation. Harry left the rest up to his godfather.

The Gryffindors had a lot of homework to do that evening, as Professor Binns assigned five chapters from A History of Magic, and Snape wanted an essay on Fiber Sploosh by next Tuesday. Harry was able to get most of the reading done, but the essay would have to wait for over the weekend. He was just about to retire when Hedwig came at the window with a reply from The Daily Prophet, addressed to Hermione.

Harry took the letter out of Hedwig, giving her some of his Chocolate Frog he was snacking on as a reward, and she hooted her thanks as she perched on his shoulder, not quite ready to return to the Owlery. Harry brought the letter over to Hermione, who was just finishing up with Snape's essay and already had the reading done. When Hermione saw the letter she grabbed it and tore it open.

"What does it say?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'll read it aloud," Hermione replied: "Dear Ms Granger: Research indicates that we have written no such article about Ms Rowling's new book, which will supposedly be released this November. However, upon your last letter we have contacted Bloomsbury Publishing, Plc. and are awaiting their response to see if their facts verify yours. Thank you for writing to us. We will keep you updated on our research. Sincerely, Langston Hearst, Managing Editor, The Daily Prophet. Hmmm. How curious," Hermione finished.

Harry was definitely puzzled by such a letter. He reread it, just to be sure. "But – I read the article. You read the article. They never printed it? Hermione, do you still have the clipping?" There must be some mistake. That had to be it.

"I – no," Hermione answered, looking just as puzzled as Harry felt.

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Hermione responded, "But perhaps between the two of us we'll be able to figure it out."


	4. The Quidditch Trials

Most Gryffindors sleep in on Saturdays, but Harry couldn't; Quidditch try-outs were that morning

Most Gryffindors slept in on Saturdays, but Harry couldn't; Quidditch try-outs were that morning and he had to help in the judging as a member for the team. Harry rolled out of bed and saw that Dean and Seamus were already out as well, and Harry presumed that the only reason they would be up so early was for the trials that he and the rest of the Lions were having that morning. He wondered who else would be trying out.

The Gryffindors knew that replacing Oliver Wood for a Keeper would be hard, but they also knew that there were plenty of good candidates for it as well. The truth was, since every member on the team except Harry were seventh-years, the Lions were trying to establish a good set of reserves for next year's team. The night before last the team had a meeting, discussing plans for this year and beyond. All agreed that during the trials, they would search for reserves that would be guaranteed a spot for next year, to ensure that the Gryffindor legacy would live on.

They had already selected a captain. Alicia Spinnet, who was friends with Oliver Wood, conferred over making her the Captain, before he graduated, and the Gryffindor team had no objections. After all, Alicia had virtually the same tactics as Wood, which was useful for that particular team. Harry always admired her style, and he especially was glad to see her become Gryffindor's newest captain.

Still, Alicia already told Harry that there was no question of who would be team captain next year, and she made Harry sort of an assistant, which, Harry knew, the other Gryffindors were perfectly okay with.

Harry took a few pieces of toast from the Dining Hall and hurried out to the pitch, where already a small crowd of Gryffindors was starting to queue up. The rest of the team was there, sitting on the bleachers, wanting to watch the trials. There hadn't been any trials in a long time; five years in fact, and Harry couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation.

Alicia Spinnet was standing on the pitch, taking a roll call of names that Madame Hooch turned in to her the night before. It seemed like nearly all the Gryffindors were there. Harry saw Dean and Seamus in the crowd, and he waved at them. Ron was there too, looking slightly greener than usual, but Harry knew that he couldn't play favorites with his friends.

There was Lee Jordan, along with two other seventh-years, and there were some sixth-years as well. After that were many third and fourth-years, sprinkled with one or two nervous-looking second-years, including Dennis Creevey. Harry knew most of them, and he felt bad when he realized that only five of the forty or so out there would be chosen, and only one would get to play a full-time position.

Alicia sized up the group of Gryffindors.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said. "I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for coming out to the trials to join a team of high legacy and stature in the Hogwarts Quidditch teams. Two years ago we won the Cup, though we should have won them the preceding years. I hope that, whatever happens today, the team we choose will continue this, er, legacy of…"

Alicia trailed off.

"…Not loosing," Fred Weasley supplied from the stands.

"Thank you," Alicia said. "Anyway. Results will be posted tonight, in the Gryffindor Common Room. Please, I'd like to let you know that there are no hard feelings, whatever we decide."

Alicia went over to the stands and sat down between Katie Bell and Harry.

"Wow, I never would have dreamed we'd have this many," Katie said. "I was expecting ten or twelve people."

Alicia shook her head. "You have no idea," she answered. "All right, show us your flying style!" she called.

About ten Quaffles and Bludgers were let out from the ground, and the Gryffindors rose in the air to chase and beat them. They started passing the Quaffles to each other, and Harry enjoyed watching each Gryffindor try his best. Ron, Dean, and Seamus weren't doing too badly, by not missing any passes. Ron did a fabulous dive with his broomstick and by doing so scored a goal, which many Gryffindors actually applauded.

But, other members weren't letting the fifth-years have the entire spotlight. Harry watched Lee Jordan play a rigorous Keeper position, not letting a single Quaffle get through the goal posts.

"All right, Jordan!" George called from the stands, and Alicia glared.

"We're supposed to be the impartial judges," she said.

"I am an impartial judge…it's just I like to throw in my comments here and there."

"More like shout and cheer on your friends."

"I'm a very opinionated impartial judge."

After watching the trials for about half an hour, Alicia told the Chasers and Beaters to go ahead and leave the stand. She sighed.

"There sure were a lot of good ones," she said remorsefully.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "but I'm more worried about the Keepers…Jordan was good, but he just wasn't Wood, you know?"

The Gryffindors murmured their assent.

"All right!" Alicia called. "I want all who are trying out for Keeper to save balls that Katie and Angelina will be trying to shoot!"

Angelina and Katie took their positions on their broomsticks and rose in the air. Though many of the people who were trying out for Chaser reserves were good, they didn't even come close to Angelina and Katie's talent. They were like two blazing fireballs in Quidditch robes, zooming across the pitch, with actual positions and moves. None of the Keepers stood a chance against them, even Lee Jordan. As Alicia watched Angelina and Katie score goal after goal, she heaved a giant sigh.

"There's just no denying it…we'll never have a Keeper as good as Wood," she said to Harry.

Harry watched the failing Keepers with a grim expression. Of course, Wood was probably off playing Quidditch for the Puddlemere United reserve team, as they watched the wannabe Keepers try to live up to Wood's precedent.

"All right, that's enough," Harry said as he watched a fourth-year miss one of Katie's balls by about twenty feet.

Alicia nodded and blew her whistle, signaling for everyone to return to the ground. 

Fred and George breathed a sigh of relief. While they watched, they cringed as each Keeper missed a ball, and after a fashion they just left that expression on. When Alicia blew her whistle, they kept wearing those faces until she told the Keepers to go home.

"So what do you think?" Alicia asked.

Fred made a farting noise and made a thumbs-down signal.

"Terrible," George said.

"The worst."

"I'd rather have a Slytherin on our team, for what those guys were!"

"Now, now," Alicia said, trying to stay positive. "They haven't had nearly as much experience as us, and I'm sure with practice, any of them will make fine Keepers."

"Yeah, fine Keepers that SUCK!" George retorted. "It's your pick, Alicia. I'm having no part of this." 

George turned to walk away, when he bumped right into his sister, Ginny Weasley. "Oof! Sorry, Gin, I didn't see you. But the try-outs are over, sorry you missed out on watching it."

It was then did Harry realize that Ginny was clutching a broom, one of the school ones.

"Actually I – I was here for try-outs," she said, sounding like the thought scared her to death, as determined as she looked. "Sorry I couldn't come earlier. Corrine was having problems, you see, with…well, I can't really say, but still, I know I'm late, but…" Ginny trailed off, looking sheepish.

Alicia looked at her clipboard and saw Ginny was on the list. "Keeper position, eh?" Alicia sounded like she couldn't take watching another failed Keeper.

"Yes. That's right," Ginny said.

Alicia sighed and turned to Harry. "It's your call," she said.

Harry looked at Ginny.

"Yeah, okay," he said.

Twenty minutes later Ginny was souring through the air, the broomstick being only an extension of the wings that should have been attached to her. Ginny was a natural as a Keeper, a complete natural. Of the hundreds of balls that Katie, Angelina, and Alicia were throwing, Ginny didn't miss a single one. Further, Ginny knew moves from books that Harry only read about, like the Double Eight Loop and the Starfish and Stick.

But the one that really put it in the bag was, just as the Gryffindor Chasers were ready to wind down and were searching for the Quaffle, it turned out Ginny had it, and she zoomed across the field and scored before they realized what was happening. The girls actually cheered once they found what was going on.

Fred and George stared at Ginny, their mouths wide open, as she and the Gryffindor Chasers descended onto the ground. They continued to stare, and Ginny grinned back, then she shrugged.

"How did you get to be so good?" George finally asked, looking at her like she was some sort of underground hero.

Ginny shrugged mysteriously.

"Aw, cm'on, Gin," Fred said coaxingly.

"Well…actually, um, Charlie taught me. A few years ago, he came home for about six weeks, and we used to play Quidditch whenever we could. You wouldn't know, you were at school the entire time, but he showed me all these moves, all day, every day, for the entire time he was there." Ginny smiled shyly.

"Hmmm. Not fair, I wish I was the youngest," George said bitterly, but he looked proud of his little sister in spite of himself.

That evening Alicia gave Harry the honors of posting the list for who made the team. Many people crowded around the sign as soon as he left the scene, but Harry got the chance to read one last time:

GRYFFINDOR LIONS, 1996-1997

****

Captain: Alicia Spinnet

****

Assistant Captain: Harry Potter

POSITIONS:

****

Seeker: Harry Potter

****

Chasers: Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet

****

Reserve Chasers: Dennis Creevey, Ron Weasley

****

Beaters: Fred Weasley, George Weasley

****

Reserve Beater: Seamus Finnigan

****

Keeper: Ginny Weasley

A/n: okay, so now Chapter Four is up! Hee hee. I know it's kind of strange, Ginny Weasley as a Keeper, but the truth is, my buddy inspired me. And a special thanks to that buddy for keeping the outcome of this story a secret…the rest of you will just have to wait! LoL. Thanks for reading, please tell me what you think (the box just below is for reviewing, lol) ~Jerry


	5. The Daily Prophet Responds II

A/n: Now I know why JKR puts in those Quidditch chapters: when you have NO CLUE what to do with the middle part of the story, you just write about the world's coolest sport

A/n: Now I know why JKR puts in those Quidditch chapters: when you have NO CLUE what to do with the middle part of the story, you just write about the world's coolest sport! Glad you enjoyed that last chapter…it was fun to write ~_~ I hope you like this one too…in any event, I can always use a piece of your guys' minds…and I will leave my hat out for reviews! ~Jerry

Hermione got a second reply from The Daily Prophet on Sunday morning, dragged in by a hawk, which meant that someone paid extra to get the letter delivered on time. Harry was working on that Potions essay when she approached him, looking incredibly…well, not exactly excited. More like disappointed. She thrust the letter at Harry, and he read:

Dear Ms Granger:

Once again, on behalf of The Daily Prophet I would like to thank you for your letter concerning Ms Rowling's newest book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. We have verified your facts, that the publisher of this book is a Muggle institution. 

However, upon contacting the Ministry for Magic, we have found that already wizards who specialize in Muggle secrecy laws have proofed this book. They have told us that Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is targeted for young Muggle children, and that it will be targeted as a fiction. Ms Rowling has changed around the facts just enough so that no Muggle will suspect anything – if she stays true to her biography, which has already been written and documented in Muggle files. If not, she will face lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban.

We will be running a story about your findings tomorrow and request that you comment on the manner, as you were the one who found all this out. Also, if you really were Harry's friend, would you mind getting a comment from him too?

Cheers,

Langston Hearst

Managing Editor

"Should we say anything?" Hermione asked. Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno," he said.

"Yeah you do."

Harry put down his quill. "Yeah, all right. What are you going to say?"

This time Hermione shrugged.

They stared at each other, lost in thought.

"All right," Harry said, just as Hermione said, "Okay." They laughed.

"You go first," Harry told Hermione.

"Okay…I'm going to say that I hope Ms Rowling sticks to her story, for your sake as well as her own." Hermione blushed, for she didn't consider herself very good at that sort of thing.

"Sounds good," Harry said encouragingly. 

"Thank you…what about your own comment?"

"Oh…I'll say something to the effect that I hope she doesn't get the facts terribly backward, like that Sveeter woman."

"Yeah, good call. I mean, I'm sure she'll be changing around names and stuff, but if she makes Hagrid look bad, I'll never let her hear the end of it."

Harry smiled.

Hermione wrote a quick reply on the back of the paper, putting in Harry's and her comments, and she sent the hawk on its way.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Harry held up his parchment. "Potions essay," he said.

"Oh I already finished mine."

"I know."

They were silent.

"Well, see you," Hermione said at last.

"Bye," Harry answered, turning back to his essay. To himself, he wondered why that moment was so awkward.

*

As promised, The Daily Prophet printed their article, doing justice for both sides of the story, which was a relief to Harry and Hermione. In fact, their friend Langston Hearst wrote the article, which made Harry wonder if The Daily Prophet was shaping up at last in terms of not being slanted and hiring the right people.

Still, the article didn't seem to satisfy Hermione.

"They don't really mention a whole lot, do they?" she asked. "I mean, yeah, they say that the book is for Muggle kids and that what is happening is totally legal, but, if I wasn't looking, I'd've missed the entire article."

Harry looked down at it. She was right; it was just another simple brief on the front page, which puzzled Harry.

"I don't see what's wrong with it, Hermione," Harry said. "I mean, yes, it's short, but it's fair."

"Yeah," Ron chipped in. "So I wouldn't bother them anymore, okay?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "I still don't like it," she said. "I mean, the whole thing is fishy."

Harry looked back down at the article. Nothing seemed fishy to him. He looked back at Hermione and shrugged.

"Well, you'd think someone aside from us would care that the book is written for Muggles!" she exclaimed.

Hermione turned to Dean Thomas, who was reading his own copy of The Daily Prophet.

"Hey Dean," she called out.

Dean looked up. "Yeah?"

"What do you make of that book on Harry?"

Dean gave her a blank look. "What book?"

"You know, the one that they mention on the front page."

"Oh yeah. The one you were looking at a few days ago? I never read that paper, since they were still delivering to my home."

"They mention it again today. Front page."

Dean skimmed the front page. "Where?"

"Just at the bottom. It's a little brief."

Dean flipped to the bottom. "There's no brief here," he said, sounding puzzled. "It's just a continuation of that tariff story from last week."

Thanks for reading! 

:throws out hat, hoping to fill it w/reviews:


	6. JKR

A/n: sorry it's been taking me forever to get up this next chapter

A/n: sorry it's been taking me forever to get up this next chapter. Rather than make stupid excuses about my failure, I'm going to thank you reviewers for filling up my hat! A huge thank-you to all the regular reviewers, because it's really you that have been encouraging me to continue. Quite honestly, if it weren't for people like ZONKOFRED, stardust, and RavenLady, I wouldn't really be continuing with this fic. I know there are way more of you out there, and I have been saying thank you by reading and reviewing your own fics…they're all very good! If I missed any of you, please email me and with full apologies I'll read and review three of your fics for missing you. Okay I'll stop babbling now – again, love ya! ~Jerry

Hermione stared at Dean. He only looked back, not understanding.

"Dean, I don't understand," she said at last. "The article…it's right here, see?" She handed him her copy of the newspaper. Dean glanced down and saw the article, but then he showed Hermione his copy of the Daily Prophet, and Hermione saw a follow-up story on the dragon tariff.

"I don't understand," she whispered, repeating herself. "The article…has it been written?" To Ron she asked, "Who else gets the Daily Prophet? Anyone around here?"

"Hmm…nope, can't think of anyone."

"I know Draco Malfoy does," Dean said helpfully, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione groaned back.

Finally they wandered to the Hufflepuff table, and Justin Finch-Fletchley was kind enough to give Hermione his copy of the Daily Prophet when she showed him what was wrong with her own.

Hermione, as well as Harry and Ron, had to go to class, so Hermione could only stash the newspapers in her backpack before rushing over to Charms with Professor Flitwick.

The Gryffindors had no afternoon classes since Astronomy was that evening, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to find time in the library that afternoon to investigate the newspaper mystery.

"What do you make of it?" Harry asked when the three sat down. He had to speak softly because Madame Pince, the librarian, was nearby, reshelving books and listening for potential troublemakers.

Hermione shook her head at Harry's question. "Actually, I'm wondering whether that first article has been written at all," she said.

"You mean that it could be like this article today?" Ron said. "A little brief on your paper, and only your paper?"

"Yeah."

Hermione went over to the newspaper archives and pulled out last Thursday's paper. She brought it over, and her expression could be easily read as fearful.

"Look," she said, her voice shaking. She held up the paper for Harry and Ron to see. "There isn't any article here, too, just like Langston Hearst said."

Ron looked at the paper, which was missing the controversial article on J.K. Rowling's book. "That is so strange," he said.

But Harry was obviously thinking of something else. He looked over to Hermione, who was biting her lip.

"Hang on a minute," he said. "Do you have Mr Hearst's letters to you, Hermione?"

Hermione whipped out the two letters. Harry gave them a really good look.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"I'm trying to see if either of the two were forged."

Ron took the letters from Harry. "Ooh, look," he said. "See how in the first letter, he curves his g's, but in the other one, they end with a hook? And look – the pen stroke seems lighter."

"Let me see, I'm the one in Arithmacy," Hermione piped up. Ron handed the letters to her. 

She hardly glanced at them before gasping audibly. "Oh, my gosh," she said. "It's obviously two different people, why didn't I see before?

"Look here," she continued. "Like Ron said, the strokes are way different. The second one has a lighter stroke, most likely written by a woman, judging from the slightly smaller handwriting. She's obviously trying to copy Mr Hearst's handwriting, because the slant and height is about the same, as are most of the letters. But, check out the signature. It's very hard to forge someone's signature, especially if they write in cursive, or with simple handwriting, and Mr Hearst does both. See?"

Hermione showed Harry and Ron the two signatures, and Harry saw that the second one was obviously a fake. It was slightly larger, and the loops seemed more forced.

"So…you think some woman is behind this?" Harry asked.

"Not just any woman…" Ron said, making a connection. "But…"

"Joanne Kathleen Rowling!" Harry and Hermione both said.

The three looked at each other.

"So those letters you sent…do you think she somehow intervened with them? Before they got to the addressees, I mean?" Ron asked.

"I'd bet my life on it," Hermione said, her anger growing. "And I'm writing a letter to her, asking her what's the big deal. Mean old cow. I can't believe anyone would go this far just to make some money off of Harry's story." She looked at Harry for support.

Harry sighed. "You do what you want," he said. "But I'm not sure if a letter will work, she can just deny whatever you accuse her of. If I were you, I'd go see her in person or something. Look her up in a Muggle phonebook, we'll visit her at our next Hogsmeade trip." Harry laughed. "But until then, I'm late for Quidditch practice." He stood.

"Crap, so am I!" Ron exclaimed, looking at his watch.

Hermione could only stare at Harry and Ron as they went up to the Gryffindor tower to change their robes. Harry grabbed his Firebolt and told Ron he'd meet him at the pitch. He wasn't kidding; he really was late for practice, which didn't look good, since it was the first one all year. But, Harry was able to slip in quietly (followed by Ron shortly thereafter), while Alicia talked about hopes for next year and beyond. Then she made Harry release some Quaffles and help the reserve kids with new tactics and general practice.

Harry didn't mind helping the new members, but that was mostly because he knew Seamus and Ron so well. Even Dennis Creevey proved to be a good Chaser, as he and Ron seemed to be one in formation and scoring with Quaffles. When Alicia blew her whistle, ending the practice, she looked incredibly pleased with the new kids.

"Ginny Weasley, you're a dream," she said, and Ginny, who was quite flushed, burned red at Alicia's words. "And I have been watching the rest of you. The Cup is ours for certain this year. Good work, everyone! Now hit the showers."

Harry went into the Gryffindor Tower, full of good spirits. He and Ron were able to bother Dean Thomas into getting the password to the Prefects' shower room, so they messed around in the giant bathtub for awhile, until finally Moaning Myrtle came in and told them both to get out because they didn't belong.

Harry and Ron both got dressed and exited the Prefects' bathroom, which was lucky because Hermione was coming their way. She was waving a piece of paper, and Harry was immediately able to guess what it was.

"I wrote her a letter, asking if we could meet," she said, looking excited. "I mean, I'm sure she'd like to meet you, Harry, since she only wrote an entire book on you. What do you think?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, sounds good," he said. 

The three were silent for a moment.

Hermione sniffed the air. "I smell perfume," she said. "You guys haven't been sneaking in the Prefects' bathroom, have you?"

"Of course not," Ron lied.

She gave them a look. "I'd take points, but not from my own friends," she said at last. Sometimes Harry forgot that Hermione was even a Prefect, even when her pristine badge gleaned from being polished so many times – Harry guessed that same badge was once Percy's. Harry didn't mind not becoming a Prefect – as Fred or George said, it'd take out all the fun in life – but he did wish that Hermione didn't have to become one, because now there were so many tales of rulebreaking that he and Ron had to keep from her.

"So…about that letter?" Harry prompted.

"Oh, right," Hermione said. Again the moment was strange. "Can I borrow Hedwig? And did you want to sign it too?"

"Hand it this way," Harry said, sighing. He read:

Dear Ms J.K. Rowling:

Recent investigation shows that you may have been intercepting valuable letters to the Daily Prophet, Bloomsbury Publishing, Plc., and the Ministry for Magic that I have written. Further, I believe you may have written certain articles appearing on the front page of the Daily Prophet. I am sorry for having accusing you of such actions, but if you know what I am talking about, I would like to arrange to meet you somehow. I am a friend of Harry Potter and a fifth-year at Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Harry took a look at it and then added under Hermione's signature: "Please include me in whatever you arrange, signed, Harry Potter."

As though reading his mind, Hedwig appeared at the nearest window and came, ready to deliver whatever letter Harry had ready for her. He attached the letter to Hedwig, and she was on her way.


	7. Arranging to meet (A/n: you can tell I h...

A/n: well, I just got back from a lovely trip to NAU at journalism camp…it was really pretty there, and I got away from the heat in The Ol' Pueblo

A/n: well, I just got back from a lovely trip to NAU at journalism camp…it was really pretty there, and I got away from the heat in The Ol' Pueblo. But, I lost a lot of sleep and am finally caught up. Further, I missed out on writing and working on this fanfic…also, I've been spending most of my writing time with ZONKOFRED, we've been collaborating on this Dumbledore fic…if you're interested, visit [here][1] for details. In spite of all this time I haven't had, I have been thinking a lot of this fic, and I can't wait to see the outcome of it. You have all been so very encouraging in your reviews, and I can't thank you enough – you're all simply wonderful! Anyway. I hope you enjoy this next chapter (and if not, let me know)! ~Jerry

"Mr Potter! Miss Granger!"

Harry and Hermione jumped when Professor McGonagall shouted their names. They were in the hall, about to meet Ron for lunch after a rather restful walk across the lake. Professor McGonagall looked down at the two rather disapprovingly, but that may have been because she called them three times before they noticed she was there.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to find you all morning!" she said, her mouth getting tighter with each word.

"Oh, er…sorry, Professor McGonagall," Hermione squeaked. Harry said nothing.

McGonagall looked at the two, as though debating with herself whether she should keep bellowing or not, but she seemed to reach the conclusion that since neither of them knew she had been looking for them, it would be unfair to chastise them.

"Yes, well…I am here to say that Professor Dumbledore wanted to see you at once, and that I was to escort you to his office the moment I found you…of course, I don't think he expected it would take this long…" McGonagall sighed, angry that she couldn't do anything about the matter at hand. "Anyway. Follow me, please."

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of pure dread. Dumbledore's office…this had to be bad. Still, they had no choice but to follow McGonagall all the way to the gargoyle. She pointed her wand at it and said, "Drooble's!" The gargoyle walked away to let in the teacher and students.

Harry adored Dumbledore's office, which was long and elegant and full of great gizmos floating about, but he just wished that every time he was in there, he wasn't in some sort of trouble or emergency. Again he felt that queasiness that only Dumbledore's office could bring, and as he sat down in a chair and Hermione joined him in the next seat, he looked down at the floor, unable to think of what sort of thing he and Hermione could've done to land themselves in the headmaster's office. Of course, if he and Ron were called in, that would have been something different altogether, but instead it was Harry and Hermione the Prefect, so Harry could only fathom what sort of scheme Dumbledore thought they cooked up.

"I'll tell him you're here," McGonagall said, stepping out of the room. Then, she gave the two a thin-lipped smile. This baffled Harry, but it somehow raised his spirits. Whatever they were doing there, it probably wasn't because they were in trouble.

After McGonagall left, Dumbledore came in almost immediately, buzzing about in a usual cheerful fashion. He positively beamed at Harry and Hermione, who could only stare back, utterly bewildered. In his hand he clutched an opened envelope, which contained a letter to him and a smaller envelope.

"I just wanted to commend you for your excellent detective work," Dumbledore said, ignoring all greetings. "Especially you, Miss Granger. You saw that article for what it was and played to your instincts. Of course, I could only expect no less of you two, but it was still such a pleasant surprise to see you found out who she was."

"Who?" Harry asked, not understanding.

"Why, Miss Rowling, of course," Dumbledore said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You sought her out. You wrote to her. And she wrote back – only this time, she thought she'd talk to me for approval. And yes, I do approve, whatever you arrange. She wanted to meet at her house…you have my permission to leave Hogwarts. That's all I wanted to say."

He stood up, handed Hermione the envelope, which was addressed to her, and excused the two down to lunch. Harry and Hermione didn't say one word until they were out of Dumbledore's office and far from earshot.

"What do you make of that?" Harry asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Very fishy," Hermione said as if what she most suspected came true.

Harry didn't prod any further. Instead he said, "well, what are we waiting for? Open up the letter, let's see what she had to say."

Hermione opened the letter addressed to her and read the letter. It had the handwriting of someone very neat and precise, someone like Hermione herself, so she read rather easily:

Dear Miss Granger, and Mr Potter, if you're there:

I would be very much interested, as well as honored, to meet with you over tea. Unfortunately I have a very tight schedule to keep and cannot really meet with you until Hallowe'en, and even then it can only be at my house. If you are interested, do tell me, and I will make all arrangements with Professor Dumbledore. 

I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you in any fashion, and I promise that I will make it all up to you in the end. There is so much I would like to say to you, Mr Potter, but it couldn't all be said in just this letter. 

Talk to Professor Dumbledore about making arrangements to meet at my house this Hallowe'en. I do hope you can come. If, for some reason, you cannot make it, write back and let me know so we can make further arrangements.

Most sincerely,

Joanne Kathleen Rowling

Harry took the letter from Hermione's hands and felt goosebumps raise all over his body. He clutched the letter in his hands and read it again for himself.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just…" Harry glanced at the letter. "I _know_ this person's handwriting. I'm not certain how, or why, but I definitely know it. Just let me think…" But as Harry tried to remember where he saw Miss Rowling's handwriting, nothing came to him.

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione replied. "Maybe it's just because of the forgeries. It does have the same strokes and pressure points, you know."

"No, it's nothing like that," Harry said. "I can't explain it. It's more of a gut feeling than anything. Like something lost out of a forgotten memory, something beyond reality. I don't know. We have to meet Ron for lunch."

He started walking, rather brusquely, and then Hermione called for him to wait, so he paused.

"Well, we better tell Ms Rowling that we can meet her, in any event," Hermione said. "Dumbledore and she both sounded very excited…I don't know, you want to, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Harry said, resuming his fast pace. "We better ask Ron if he does, too, you know. It's only fair."

"Yeah, okay," Hermione said, happy that Harry was taking interest in something so touchy to him. "So I'll write back and tell her Hallowe'en will be fine, and that she and Dumbledore can make whatever arrangements they like?"

"Sounds good," Harry said.

"Okay, will do then!" Hermione ran off in the other direction. Harry watched her, wondering again why it was that he felt he wasn't the only one watching her. Who knew. All he knew for sure was, Hallowe'en wasn't for another four weeks, and until then, he would be stuck with the mystery of who Joanne Rowling was.

Or what she was doing.

   [1]: http://members.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=story-read&storyid=348788



	8. in which things start to come together

"Really

A/n: 79 reviews!!! I'm thrilled! Thank you all so much…this fic has been so much fun to write, and I can't wait to see what you'll all think of the outcome…the ever-so-revealing outcome; I don't think ANYONE predicted what was to happen, but tell me if you had a feeling or not because I'm curious. No, this isn't the last chapter, but I am going to reveal something important here…~Jerry

The month of October passed with very few events, save a few things. Gryffindor won the first Quidditch match of the season against Slytherin, and Dumbledore made the arrangements for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to meet Joanne Kathleen Rowling.

But, Hallowe'en arrived quickly, and the morning for Harry to meet his stalking, writing friend was upon him. Professor McGonagall woke Harry and Ron up rather early, too early for their liking, especially when they were taking a day off.

"Come on, now," McGonagall said, tapping both on the shoulder. Harry shook as he woke up. He was having that dream again, in which the shadow of his father kept coming out of Voldemort's wand…but Harry tried to think nothing of it as he paid attention to McGonagall's shaking him awake. "I'll meet you in the Common Room once you get dressed."

Ron and Harry exchanged yawns. They also puzzled over the strangeness of McGonagall herself coming in their dorm just to wake them up for a meeting.

Hermione already went over the entire thing with Harry and Ron the night before. Dumbledore hooked up a Portkey that was to take them all the way to Ms Rowling's house, which was in Edinburgh. They would have used Floo Powder, or the bus, but both were too long and hard a travel. Hermione speculated that they would be meeting Ms Rowling's daughter, Jessica, who was three or four. Harry didn't like that idea; younger kids didn't appeal to him much, as they enjoyed picking on him for some reason. 

Harry looked outside and saw that the sun hadn't even risen yet, which made him feel all the more sleepy. He looked outside and saw that not even birds had stopped roosting. Even a few stars were still shining, though dimly, for the sky was a dull gray.

When Ron and Harry were ready, they met McGonagall and Hermione down in the Common Room. McGonagall had some toast and orange juice ready for the three. She seemed tense, and she kept looking over to Harry warily.

"Now, you three behave while you're with…Ms Rowling…" McGonagall said. She looked at Harry strangely again. Harry pretended to ignore it as they started walking down to Dumbledore's office.

They reached the gargoyle, and McGonagall cast one more anxious look at Harry. Finally Harry sighed.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" Harry asked.

McGonagall snapped to attention. "Oh…nothing's wrong. After all, you already know…it'll be wonderful though, Harry. You'll be so happy to meet her, at last, don't you think?"

Harry looked back up at McGonagall, who wore a surprisingly warm smile. He returned the thin-lipped smile, though he must have looked confused, because McGonagall looked away, after a fashion.

"Well," she said. "This is it…Professor Dumbledore should be waiting for you…" She made the gargoyle move and then stepped aside so the three could get in. They went up the escalator staircase and then knocked on the door at the top.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice said cheerily. "The door is open."

Harry opened the door and let his friends in before him. The three found Dumbledore, holding a used wine corkscrew, which still had a cork of seven months stuck in it.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Come in, come in, you three. I have been waiting…so has this Portkey. You have good timing, may I say. The Portkey should activate in about a minute, if you'd like to hold onto it."

Harry took the wine corkscrew and held it in his hands. Hermione put a shy hand on it, and Ron followed suite. Dumbledore watched them as they held the corkscrew, the three of them gathering around such a strange object.

"Now, I will pick you up at nine o'clock tonight," Dumbledore said. "It would have been earlier, but we have that Hallowe'en Feast, and you know how that takes up the entire evening. But, I imagine you will be having too much fun to notice…especially you, Harry…"

Harry made an indistinct noise. He was rather tired of McGonagall and Dumbledore acting so strangely around him, but he didn't say anything so not to insult them. After all, they seemed very kind in arranging everything, and letting all three students skip school, just to meet someone they never even talked to for real…

"Three…two…one…" Dumbledore counted down the Portkey, and just as he reached "one," Harry felt a pulling, right at his navel, and he felt miles upon miles of land being covered, just in a blink of a second…

…And suddenly they were at a small townhouse just outside the city ((A/n: although I did much research on JKR and her biography to get it to match w/the story, I found nothing on what type of house she and her sis lived in just before PS was published. So I made it up.)). Harry thought nothing of the small house, except that it was older and probably rented out. It seemed more like a 20-year-old flat to Harry, but he said nothing.

"This it?" he asked Hermione.

"I…I don't know," she answered.

Harry went over to the front door and rang the doorbell. He heard the chime, all throughout the house, and he waited. A moment passed, then another. But, no one answered.

Ron sighed. "I'll ring it…" he said.

Ron rang the doorbell, and again chimes could be heard all throughout the house. But, they couldn't even hear movement from within the house, not even a dog shuffling to the door.

"Looks like no one's home," Harry said as they listened for the sound of someone to answer the door.

"Hold it," Hermione said. "I hear a baby's scream."

Harry and Ron listened from within, and indeed Hermione was correct. Finally they heard thudding down the stairs.

"I'm awfully sorry!" someone's voice called. "Please let yourselves in! I'm all a mess, I had to help Jessica with her breakfast…do come in!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged puzzled looks, but they opened the door and let themselves in a tiny foyer that the three could barely squeeze into.

"Ms Rowling?" Hermione called. "Ms Rowling, it's us! My name is Hermione Granger, and I have Harry Potter and Ron Weasley with me…we came from Hogwarts, remember?"

There was no response.

"Please go," someone said from down the hall. "Ms Rowling will not be seeing you today."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks of puzzlement.

"But, Ms Rowling, we booked over a month in advance…"

"I SAID GO!"

But Harry did nothing of the sort, for he was truly James Potter's son. Instead of leaving and closing the door behind him, he strode right into the kitchen, where he saw Jessica Rowling, sitting in a high chair. Then he wiped his glasses a few times, unable to comprehend what he was watching. The woman who was feeding her daughter's breakfast was…

Lily Potter.

A/N: dun, dun, dun! Oh man, now I'm ready for the flames…but, I will explain it all, I promise! I got the chills writing this, I really did. And then my friend IMed me while I was working, and I literally jumped like two feet off my chair because the chimes reminded me of the doorbell. Creepy stuff. If you'd like to email me on the topic, go for it! I am full of ideas but would be partial to suggestions….you can reach me at [proflupin@earthlink.net][1]

And now, it's past my bedtime. ~Jerry

   [1]: mailto:Proflupin@earthlink.net



	9. talkie talkie (stupid Lynn teasing me)

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Mom?" Harry whispered. He blinked again. There was no way that could be Lily Potter standing before him, even though Harry knew her from the hours he had spent in his room and his dorm at Hogwarts, staring at pictures of her…her and Harry's dad, James Potter. For Harry, there was no mistaking Lily Potter for someone else. 

Still, Harry was in disbelief. He thought she was dead; didn't Voldemort kill her twelve years ago?

And yet, the more Harry thought about the possibility of his mother being alive, the more it made sense to him. He had heard many times that he was an orphan, but there were little details in his life that could not be explained away. For one, in his first year when he was thwarting Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone, the Dark Lord claimed to have killed his father first, and that his mother didn't need to die. Harry always wondered why that was, but he never bothered to look deeply into his darkest enemy's words. 

Even more disturbing, Lily's memory never came out of the wand last spring. James came out, and he talked Harry through the entire confrontation. His mother, who was supposed to come out before James did according to the laws of Priori Incantum, never came out.

But the thought that his mother just might be alive never crossed Harry's mind.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Harry shook the sensation out of his head, but he didn't answer Hermione just then. He was too full of emotions to speak.

"Did you know about this?" Ron asked Hermione. She responded by shaking her head.

Harry brushed off his friends as he stared at his mother. In the flesh. _Alive_.

"You…did want to meet on Hallowe'en, didn't you?" Hermione asked Ms Potter carefully.

"Hallowe'en…you know, Hallowe'en is my favorite holiday…." Tears filled in Lily's eyes as she stared at Harry, open-mouthed. Harry noticed that during the exchange she had dropped the spoon she was using to feed Jessica. 

Harry looked over to the baby. Jessica, who was sitting in a high chair, had become very still and quiet. It was almost as though she knew that something very unreal – something magical, to say the least – was happening, and she did not want to ruin the moment with her childish screams.

Ms Potter went over to Harry, slowly, at first. Then she ran to him and embraced him in her arms, effusive with emotion.

"My son! My son…" she broke as she held Harry in her arms. 

Harry was still too numb to speak. He let his mother, who smelled so much like mothers should, hold him in her delicate arms. He noticed her eyes looked just like his, that she looked just like her sister, Petunia, only so much more delicate and sheik. He found that he loved her, even though he couldn't explain why, but he loved her, the way a son was meant to love his mother. He only hoped she loved him back.

When they broke, Harry let out a great breath, and with his breath came the tears. Hermione knew they would come eventually, and she was relieved when they did. Ron looked away; he did not wish to embarrass Harry so when Harry did not understand what he was feeling.

"Sit down, Harry, do sit down. I have so much to tell you, like I said in my letter to your friend Hermione." Ms Potter looked up and seemed to notice Harry's friends for the first time. "Do have a seat," she told them. "I'll make some tea while we talk."

Ms Potter started making herself busy behind the kitchen counter while Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down at a small but cozy table. Harry looked over at Jessica, who looked about two years old.

"I have a sister…" Harry said aloud. "I have a sister."

"Well, a half-sister," Ms Potter said from the stove. "Her name is Jessica and she's almost three now. It was quite a mistake, trying to marry after your father died. Especially a Muggle who didn't understand anything. And what with the longevity of witches to Muggles and it being obvious that Jessica was a witch like me…I couldn't tell him who I was or what his daughter was. So I left him.

"Jessica is very lovable though," Ms Potter chattered on. "I'm sure she'll be so happy to have a big brother."

A big brother…the words sounded hollow in Harry's ears. He choose to ignore the words as an uncomfortable silence escaped through the kitchen.

"Harry, I – "

"Why did you send me to live with the Dursleys?" Harry interrupted. Tears welled up in his eyes when Harry asked his question. He looked at his mother, who looked away. Harry looked away too, and he wiped his eyes as he heard his mother answer.

"Oh, Harry, I wanted to be with you, so much," Ms Potter said. She sounded sincere, so sincere that Harry couldn't do anything but believe her. "But our lives were in danger. If Voldemort were to find us together while vulnerable, we would have been killed. So I choose to fake my death and start a new life, posing as a Muggle. I originally planned to take you with me, so that we could live our lives together, no matter how scary things got. However, I knew that the Hogwarts quill would still hunt you down and find me with you. So I fled that night, leaving you in our house's rubble. I trusted that Sirius would take you in as his guardian…but then he became a prisoner of Azkaban. I never would have thought Dumbledore would have sent you to live with my wretched sister, but, the more I think about it, the safer you are there, with Ms Figg right next door to watch you all this time. Being in exile with me would have only brought you danger, more danger than you are in right now. 

"Of course, I was watching you all this time, even in your darkest days. That's how I kept an eye on the wizarding community, was through your eyes."

"Through my eyes?" Harry repeated dully. He was listening to Ms Potter's words with a half-ear, because he still couldn't see how it was that Lily Potter could survive the Avada Kedavra Curse, or how anyone could for that matter.

"Yes, through your eyes, dear. You see, we have very special eyes. They're magically connected in a way that if you concentrate hard enough, you can see what I am seeing and thinking. I can do it too, only vice versa. So I was with you all this time. I would especially watch you whenever Voldemort was near, because, you see, I happen to have a lightning scar too, from where Voldemort left his mark, but mine is over my heart. Sometimes when Voldemort is near or feeling murderous, I can feel my entire chest burn with his terrible anger, and I feel bitter on those days. There are times when I suspected Voldemort might have been watching his closest enemies, but, I knew he thought I was dead when you were under that chamber with him, in your first year at Hogwarts.

"I actually watched you quite a bit, Harry. And after a fashion I started to write it all down, in my diary. Soon it evolved into a daily routine, in which I'd record what you did that day. To this day, I cannot explain why I started. It just felt so right at the time. In some ways it made me feel like I was fulfilling the duties of a mother, even though I couldn't be there. For ten years I wrote down all your memories at the Muggle school you attended with Dudley. I kept going after you started Hogwarts, and to this day I still record every little thing."

"Well, what is this about that book you are writing?" Hermione asked.

"You mean that Muggle book I'm writing?" Ms Potter repeated. "Well, actually, I am feeling that it is time I started telling the wizard community that I am alive and well. But, I couldn't quite go right out to the wizarding community and say it, because Voldemort is on the loose. So I had to find another way, a way to tell them that I am alive, but under the Dark Lord's nose too.

"I had to broadcast to the mass that I was alive. But, I had to do it in a way so that only a few people would understand what I was doing. So I decided to publish a Muggle book – nothing too big, mind you – just enough so that if a wizard happened to pick it up, they would notice there is something wrong with the facts in certain aspects of the wizarding community. And then, if they were suspicious enough, they would actually look up who J.K. Rowling is, and they'd see Lily Potter's picture."

"Ooh, clever!" Hermione applauded. "So this book you're writing has nothing to do with telling Muggles who we wizards are, but instead it has to do with telling the wizards who you are."

"Now, wait a minute. How'd you run that past the Ministry?" Ron asked.

Ms Potter smiled. "I have connections," she answered. "You see, Harry's father, James, was an Unspeakable at the Ministry, and not too many of those come along. It's a very dangerous job. But, working at the Department of Mysteries has a lot of prestige in it – even the Minister for Magic ranks below them. So of course when I wrote a letter to Cornelius explaining my situation, he couldn't say much against it. He just said that so long as someone in the Department of Mysteries proofed it before I sent it to Bloomsbury, it was fine. So I did just that. There is nothing in that book that will get the Muggles even wishing they could be like us. But, like I said, they won't care anyway. They prefer books about humdrum people like themselves."

"Oh, really?" Hermione glowered. "I happen to be Muggle-born."

"I am Muggle-born, too," Ms Potter answered. She smiled. "You can read it for yourself, if you'd really care to see if there's anything in it."

"Thank you, I think I will," Hermione answered. "Do you have a copy of your manuscript?"

"Oh, they've already made ten or so prints. I'll give you each one copy before you leave."

Harry felt a twinge of nerves. Before he left…? Was that how his mother saw him? He almost felt resentful of what she was saying. At the same time, he was wildly curious about her. How did she survive? What has she been doing all these years? But most of all, one great question lay in Harry's mind:

What will happen to me?

A/n: Nooooooooooo! I can't believe that happened to me: I was all prepared to upload this story for you, my poor readers, and ffn decides to crash. I'm really very sorry about that. School started today, can you believe that? I'll try to keep us up to date on this story, but be warned, my life suddenly became very busy. AP English 12 and Honors Geo/Trig, and editor-in-chief for the newspaper and all this other stuff…anyway. If anyone else is out there feeling the workload piling on, you can definitely email me, I'll gladly lend an ear.

Thank you for not flaming me! Of course, if you're still pissed about something, you can tell me. ~Jerry


	10. this one goes up until eleven.

A/n: wow

A/n: wow. How long has it been since I've worked on this story? I apologize for the delay…I agree with MidnightGremlin, though. This last chapter I wrote struck me as "forced," and though I love you guys for enjoying it all the same, I've been trying to get back in the swing of the whole mystery thing, which is what is making these last few chapters so difficult. Oh well. Let the characters write themselves, right? I hope that's the case in this chapter! ~Jerry.

Harry wandered his way through the hour, listening to his mother telling him stories of her life growing up with Petunia. She then proceeded to stories of how she met James and when they got married. 

There were photo albums…piles of them. Harry looked at many moving photographs that contained hundreds of faces and names…Ron even caught a glimpse of his mother (a much younger and thinner version, but nonetheless, Ron's mother) in a few photographs. Harry listened to his mother with pretended enthusiasm, but there must have been something in his eyes that showed he was not listening, because Hermione looked at him with furrowed brows and excused herself to talk to him.

"Are you all right?" she asked when they were in a private room, presumably a den of some sort.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Great, in fact. I have a mother. Let's be joyful." Harry feigned a smile.

Hermione studied his face. Harry stared back at her.

"Now I know where I have seen that look on you," she said. "It was the same look you had in the Shrieking Shack when you nodded to Sirius, telling him that you believed his innocence."

Harry shrugged. "Don't you worry so," he said. He smiled again, a rather glum smile. "I'll be all right. I'm happy she's alive and that I do have a mother. It is almost as if she is reborn. Now please let us go back to the kitchen."

Hermione watched as Harry went back to the kitchen. There was something Harry was not saying aloud, something he would not say that might have meant the world to him. He'd just grin it out, she told herself bitterly. He would never admit something was bothering him, because Harry could be stupid like that. It annoyed Hermione, because she liked to think of herself as one who could read Harry better than anyone. She should know what was wrong simply by looking at him, and she didn't.

Hermione frowned. 

Harry got into the kitchen, where Lily was feeding Jessica again while talking to Ron. Ron was giving her a few updates on his mother and father – apparently the Weasleys were close friends with the Potters. Harry probably should have known, based on the way Ron's family treated him as an equal or part of the family and not just some kid or wizard friend. He stood at the doorway, watching for a few moments. Then he decided to incise the conversation.

"Mum?" Harry said. The words still sounded foreign on his tongue. He hesitated.

Lily looked at Harry tentatively. "Yes, Harry?"

Harry closed his mouth. He waited. "What will happen, then? Am I to just skip back to Hogwarts like a good little boy and keep my studies until a later time?" The words tumbled out of his mouth.

Lily paused. "I don't know, son," she said. "I honestly don't. It is quite a decision to make. If you stay with me, we will put ourselves at risk. On the other hand, I love you and want you to be living with me more than anything. You are my son and need a mother. So we must choose: do we want to be safe or do we want to be happy?"

Her words hung in the air. Harry eventually shrugged and looked away.

Lily looked at Harry, a look of pity on her face. "Perhaps we shall decide another time," she said. "In the meantime I think it is time you three went back to the school anyway. Let me get you my story before you leave." 

Lily picked up Jessica and exited the room with her. She returned in a few moments, three copies of a book in hand. She passed them out to Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

The cover had a cartoon picture of a red train on it. The train had a green sign on its front that said in gold lettering, "Hogwarts Express." There was a cartoon-Harry looking at the train, and a white sign above him that said "Platform Nine and Three Quarters." Harry looked puzzled, and his scar was drawn far out of proportion. His cartoon glasses clouded his green eyes, and he his hand rested on his chin as though afraid to face the world ahead of him. On the top was a great HARRY POTTER marquis, and a cursively handwriting underneath said, "_and the Philosopher's Stone_."

Ron laughed. "It looks like Hogwarts Express is going to hit you!" he said.

Hermione grinned. "Better look both ways next time."

Harry laughed, too. "Why is there a Muggle train right next to the wizard train?" he asked. "Seems a little obscure to me." 

"Yeah. And who is that guy on the back supposed to be?" Ron asked.

Harry turned over the book and saw a man with a brown beard and yellow-striped pants smoking a pipe. He wore a purple coat and a stupid hat that had a great star on the side. In his hand was a schoolbook with a great star on the cover. Harry had no clue who he was supposed to be.

"All right, I admit the cover art is pretty bad," Lily said with a laugh. "The whole thing is rather hokey, to be honest. But, I think you will enjoy what I wrote about you three. Mind you, I did have to change around a few things, like give Platform Four and Three Ninths a new name. In later books some of the changes are rather large, though. I am still wondering what to do when just James comes out of the wand in Book Four." Lily paused, as though thinking. "I'll figure it out when the time comes, I guess. Wow. By then you will be done with Hogwarts. Maybe by we can live together safely."

"I do hope so," Harry said. He stared down at the book cover. Somehow looking at the book made him feel eerie, in a way he could not describe. The book had the scent of magic about it; Harry wondered if any Muggle would notice such a phenomenon. He doubted it, though, and he even doubted the book's success. An all-time flop, Harry told himself. Who would want to read about me?

"J.K. Rowling?" Hermione asked. "Where did you get that alias, by the way?"

Lily laughed. "J.K. stands for 'just kidding,' and the 'Rowling' is for 'rowling with laughter.' Get it?"

Ron laughed. "How punny," he said. This only made the group laugh harder.

Harry looked at his watch. "Seven-thirty," he said. How did the time go by so fast? Perhaps it went with all the photo albums….

Hermione jumped up. "Already?" she asked. "We better go, it's a two-hour walk from where we're going to meet Dumbledore."

"I'll go with you," Lily said.

Harry looked up. "It's kind of a walk, are you sure you want to go?" he asked.

"Of course!" she said. "Let me get my jacket. And Jessica." She disappeared to the back of the house.

Not even ten minutes later everyone was walking at a turbo pace to a Muggle park, way outside the neighborhood. Dumbledore mentioned a very secret cave where he could Apparate everyone to Hogwarts. Lily kept balancing Jessica from one shoulder to the next. Both Harry and Hermione offered to take her, if only to give Lily a break, but she insisted on carrying Jessica. So everyone kept turboing.

They reached a park that had very few lights. It was almost nine; Harry couldn't believe the good timing the group had.

They walked about a hundred feet off the sidewalk to a little hill, and in the hill was a cave that Harry saw first, which he pointed it out. He wondered what made it so secret; it was so obvious to him that he saw it right away, as did Lily, Hermione, and Ron.

As they walked inside, Harry realized that it must be a secret cave, for wizards only and surrounded with Muggle repellant spells. Harry saw a great beautiful room about him, with a rich red couch on one side and a bookcase on another. There was a sign above the exit door that said on it, "Station Nine," which meant nothing to Harry.

"This is a wizard station," Lily explained. "You can Apparate here without worrying about Muggles seeing you, and underage wizards can use Floo Powder…it was an achievement of the Department for Secret Transportation, at the office next door…" she smiled fondly, as though remembering.

Harry continued to look about him. Beneath him was a parquet floor, shiny and new. It was quite a spacious room, actually. He could hear water flowing from somewhere underneath, presumably some sort of fountain, but he could not find the source.

Lily looked about her. "Wow," she said. "I have not experienced magic outside my own powers for a long time."

Hermione gave Lily a puzzled look. "You did not use magic while in the Muggle community, did you?" she asked.

"Of course not," Lily said. "But, adult wizards, like young wizards, can loose control, even though a rarity."

Hermione nodded. "I see," she said.

Harry yawned. It was not until they had a moment of peace did he realize how tired he really was. He had experienced too many ups and downs earlier…too many emotions in such little time is not a good thing, he learned.

Just as Harry was collecting his thoughts, Dumbledore Apparated in front of the red couch with a soft _pop._ He stopped, brushed himself off, and then looked up in the room.

"Oh, good, you're here," he said. "I'm so sorry I was late. You see, a certain pair of brothers thought it would be rather…er…amusing…to replace every Cauldron Cake at the Slytherin table with a set of Mice Pies…"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stifled a laugh.

Dumbledore turned then to Lily. "Ah, Ms Potter," he said cordially. "I know it has been awhile."

"How have you been, Albus?" Lily said. She was turning a little red, presumably out of embarrassment at having her former headmaster acknowledge her.

"Living, Lily. Living. How has your day been?"

Lily turned to Harry and smiled. "Amazing," she said. "He's an extraordinary child."

"That, my dear Lily, is an understatement," Dumbledore said. 

Now it was Harry's turn to turn red.

"Are we ready?" Ron asked. He, too, seemed tired.

"Yes, yes, you're right, Mr Weasley, it is of course time for us to go…I still have to discipline the culprits…" Dumbledore said as he pulled a great vase out of his robes. He waved his hand at the fireplace, and as he did a great conflagration illuminated the room. Dumbledore reached into the vase and the flames became blue.

"All right…Mr Weasley, you first," Dumbledore said.

Ron stepped forward. He turned to Harry and Hermione. "See you in a bit," he said. He cast an unreadable look at Lily and Jessica, and then he turned to the fireplace. "Hogwarts!" he shouted as he jumped in.

"Hermione?" Dumbledore said.

Hermione didn't hesitate. She jumped in the fireplace, and with a _whoosh _she was gone, too.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said gently.

Harry started to step forward. He then looked at Lily. _My mother._

For the second time he went to her, and hugged her. Balancing Jessica on one arm, Lily hugged Harry with the other. Harry felt wet drops on his shoulder, and he heard Lily sniffle.

"Don't you worry, Harry," she said softly, into his ear. "You are safe there. Remember you have a mother who is alive and loves you very much."

"How will we keep in touch?" Harry asked. His voice started to waiver.

Lily broke from the embrace. She then wiped her eyes. "We can always keep in touch through our emerald eyes, my dear. All you have to do is concentrate, and you will see me through my own eyes. I will be watching you, my son, as you will be watching me. And whatever the Dark Lord does to pain your scar…remember that I feel it too, and it tears away at my heart just as it tortures your mind."

Harry nodded. He stared at Lily as he started to back towards the fireplace. He wanted to keep every part of her in his mind…her deep green eyes…her red hair and freckles…her tear-streaked face…the way she balanced Jessica on her waist…and how she stared back at him, with an eternal, patternless love. Harry kept this picture in his mind as he turned and faced the fire. Then he, too, jumped in, not even aware of his dislike for Floo Powder until it was too late to turn back.


	11. last chapter!

Author's note: :cough: Being sick is never fun. Here I am, lying in bed while writing away on my iBook....nothing to do but write a fanfic...lolz. Well, the bad news is, now my Thanksgiving Break is shot, but oh well I need r/r anyway.

Well, this just may end up being the last chapter (depending on whether the conclusion comes to me or not), so it was fun, lots of fun, and I love you all for sticking around! Thank you! Tell your friends about this fic and me...

Speaking of this fic, anyone see the HP movie, yet? This fic is rather shot from Lily being alive and everything (I won't say anymore for those who haven't seen it yet), but I did pat myself on the back for calling the fact that Lily DID look like JKR :D

C ya~Jerry.

Harry returned in Dumbledore's office, nearly landing on Hermione, who just fell out of the fireplace, also. Harry stood hoisted Hermione off the floor, and she in return helped brush ash off him. Harry saw Ron in the corner, and when their eyes met Ron came over and helped her brush soot off Harry. Harry would've returned the favor, but neither Ron nor Hermione were as filthy as he.

As soon as they were done, Dumbledore returned via the fireplace. He was hardly dirty at all; a few brushes at the sleeves and Dumbledore was clean from all ashes. Harry looked at Dumbledore and saw he seemed sad, though that wasn't quite the word Harry was thinking of.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione said.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger?" he said wearily.

"You seem...distressed," Hermione said. "Are you all right?"

"Oh...look, I," Dumbledore buried one of his long-fingered hands in his head. He massaged his forehead a few times, slowly closing his blue eyes and opening them again. Dumbledore then took off his golden spectacles, wiped them on his robes, and put them on again.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I am rather distraught. At times the battle against Voldemort can run down even someone like myself. Our battle is as long and hard as it is distressing. If I may, I would like to talk to Harry for a moment. If you and Mr Weasley would not mind going to the Gryffindor common room while I do so?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione and Ron muttered. Clutching copies of their books, Ron and Hermione headed downstairs to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "I–I wanted to thank you for letting me go today," he said quickly, stumbling on his own words. Harry did not mean to say that, to express his gratitude right then, when Dumbledore seemed so upset for once, but Harry did not know what else to say.

"Oh...you're quite welcome, Harry. I am certain you and Mr Weasley are, after all, always looking for an excuse to escape Potions anyway, correct?"

Harry grinned.

"Harry, I know that as much joy and exuberating as you've felt today, this day must've also been painful. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe I saw a rather sour look on your face as you were leaving today."

Harry nodded and looked away.

"Harry...a lot has been taken away from you when you were a year old, and in the most brutal manner as well. You have been destined for greatness before your birth, you could not have asked for a better set of parents; your place in this world is with them, surrounded and encouraged with their love. Instead you have grown up abused by the Dursleys and inferior to Muggles surrounding you. What has been raped from you...it all comes down to Voldemort...Voldemort, who is as terrible as he is powerful.

"But Harry, your mother learned something that night, and that is, love always prevails. Always." Dumbledore's eyes met Harry's as he said that last bit.

"But...how did she survive? _How?" _Tears filled Harry's eyes. "And why did she leave me?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry with utter sympathy and sadness in his eyes. "Perhaps it is easier to answer one and the other at the same time...on that night, Harry, your mother did a very brave thing...she looked at Voldemort straight in the eye and said, 'not Harry, don't kill Harry.' Your mother demonstrated the same type of courage as you did last spring, actually.

"Voldemort once said to someone I know that he always admired courage...but not even courage saved Lily that night. When Voldemort rounded on your mother and cast the Killing Curse, Lily believed in what she was doing so much that she overcame death. Her spirit was stronger than Voldemort's spell, and she managed to resist his spell. But, part of me thinks that she used you, Harry, that night, through your eyes."

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "How do you know about our eyes?" he asked.

"Why, I was the one who looked it up for her," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with a newfound curiosity. "When you were a baby your mother was noticing how you seemed to look _beyond_ her, so to speak, so I investigated it for her and found that your eyes were linked...not the first pair of wizards to have what's called Mindwires, but it is still a rarity in our world. The strangest was, believe it or not, with Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw."

Harry listened to Dumbledore with interest.

"Your Mindwire is what saved you that night," Dumbledore said. "Avada Kedavra is a dangerous curse...which is why no living has survived it. But your mother and you, together, were able to survive Voldemort's curse...your spirits were stronger than his evil.

"I do not understand how you two managed to deceive Voldemort all these years, for he obviously believed your mother was dead...he testified it several times to you. Still, I believe this is also what has been keeping your mother safe, because we know that if it weren't for you, she would be dead; if it weren't for her, you would be dead. She's been protecting herself and you by having you live, because she knew that if you were ever in trouble, she could save you through your Mindwire, without Voldemort knowing."

Harry thought about it.

"And that is your secret, Harry. Between you and your mother, you are so strong you could rule the world, because two minds will always be more powerful than one. At the time you are the most powerful human to live, together. Voldemort realized this power–which is why he was after you. When Lily resisted what he offered you both that night, he choose to kill you, and he failed."

Harry listened to those words with a hollow sadness. "So...my mother wants me to keep this power, but she does not want to jeopardize both our lives again, so she's been hiding..."

"...Until you defeat the Dark Lord, many wizards will be hiding," Dumbledore said. "And some for better reasons than simply your protection."

*

A/n: Harry did not understand the reality of Dumbledore's words until after he defeated Voldemort, after his seventh year. At that point his mother's books really did take to the Muggle world, much to everyone's amusement and surprise, and in the first edition of her fourth book, well after Harry graduated from Hogwarts and it was safe for him to live with his mother again, and she revealed herself to the wizarding world through the first edition of her fourth book, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. It was subtle, but anyone who knew Harry would know that neither of Harry's parents came out of the wand that fateful night...although the Priori Incantum phenomena did occur, you see. But, neither Lily or James were involved any such occurrence...indeed Hogwarts' sole Champion, Cedric Diggory, and Bertha Jorkins came out of the wand, as did the Muggle, Frank Bryce...

But that is not why I had to update this fic at the end with an author's note. Because, you see, I could not leave you, dear readers, wondering whether Harry really did defeat Voldemort at the end, and whether he is happy right now, as I write. Well, I will leave Harry's final victory against Voldemort for Lily to reveal, in a few years, but I thought you might just like to know this part of the story, until then:

The Harry Potter craze had reached its peak. Harry lived with Lily, happy, alive, and, most important, with no fear of Voldemort, who was dead, his followers punished, repented or dead with their master. Lily had revealed herself as and had rebuilt the house at Godric's Hollow, where she lived when she wanted to escape "those crazy Muggles," as she said once.

Harry lived nearby, and he regularly visited his mother, the other side of his Mindwire. What Harry did for a living I cannot say, because again, that is for Lily to reveal. But, on with the muffins…

One day Harry was visiting his mother for tea, when she approached him with a strange question:

"Harry," she said. "Do you remember anything about the night Voldemort attacked us? Anything at all?"

Harry looked at his mother quizzingly, and he set down his tea and pursed his lips in thought.

"Green light, you screaming, something about Father shouting for you to take me and go...lots of high-pitched laughter...more green light..." Harry listed terrible memories of the past.

Lily nodded. "I don't recall much of it, either," she said. "Reason being, after Voldemort's defeat, you and I both passed out...the effort of staying alive nearly killed both of us. When I woke up I saw Hagrid picking you up, and Sirius' motorbike in the sky...I remember someone dragging me away, and telling me to be at peace, but I do not recall anything else. I was out of it."

Harry nodded. "Go on. Why are you saying this, now?"

Lily Potter looked at Harry. She then set down her tea, also, and swiftly went over to her computer...most wizards still did not understand why Lily had a computer, but she said it was very necessary for keeping in touch with her publishers, so no one bothered her about it...

She clicked on something and words came up on the computer...Harry saw her type "www.fanfiction.net," though he did not understand what she was doing. Harry did have some understanding of computers, but Dudley never really showed him how to use the Internet, and apparently that was what his mother was using.

"Mum, what are you..." Harry began, but Lily shushed him. She typed something else, Harry didn't see what it was, but she pulled up a story of some sort.

"This story caught my eye," she said, turning back to Harry.

Harry continued to look puzzled.

Lily sighed. "On web sites, amateur writers like to write what are called fanfictions, in which people write stories inspired from what they have read, seen, or heard...perhaps it is better that you do not know what sort of fanfictions get inspired, you would be shocked at some of what some writers have written about you! But, I must say, there are many good ones out there, too, some that I wish did happen in your life...

"One fanfiction caught my eye, called 'About the Author,' not because of the name, but because the synopsis, well... _struck_ me. Harry, I want you to read it. Go ahead. Right now."

Harry read the story, and as he did, he found that not only was the story correct, word for word (aside from Platform Four and Three Ninths being Platform 11), it was almost as though someone was watching Harry and his mother the entire time.

"But who...? Ron? Hermione?" Harry asked when he finished.

"No...neither Ron nor Hermione would know the story that well...I had a feeling about this author, and encouraged him to write with each chapter he uploaded, and toward the end he petered out. So I left him one last word of encouragement, under a name that would only slightly give me away, because I knew he was despairing of getting any leads."

"You knew it was a him?"

"Yes, my child, because only one person would write the story, someone who was trying to signal us, the same way I signaled you. Someone who is alive, but had to hide, too, until Voldemort was dead for sure."

"I don't follow," Harry said.

Lily Potter smiled. "We may have dodged the curse, but we were not the ones that caused the second flash of green light that night. It was the third person in the house, the one who told me to take you and leave...but I wouldn't leave him just as he wouldn't leave us...he watched us survive, and then he killed him when the target was open and he knew we were safe..."

The doorbell rang.

Harry looked over at his mother. He hugged her, lightly, of course, and he only wished that Jessica were not at Hogwarts for this moment...

Oh, and let me add, my dear Lily, I love you, too.


	12. just a disclaimer, no need to link here....

DISCLAIMER:

I, Jerry Christianson, the author of this fan fiction, do recognize that I do not own rights or parts to the Harry Potter serial. Harry Potter is copyright 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001 J.K. Rowling, all rights reserved. Jerry Christianson is not affiliated with J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, or AOL Time Warner Co. 

I do not endorse any of the characters and events in this publication - I merely present them. All characters and events in this Internet publication are fictitious. Any resemblance's to actual people, (living or dead), or actual events, are purely coincidental. 

No work may be taken or "borrowed" from this fan fiction.


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